Frozen Blossoms
by Starlight.Memory
Summary: Sasuke's family has just been massacred and he's grieving with his best friend. There isn't much to be said other than 'I'm sorry,' but Momo makes an effort to comfort him.


**A/N: ****If Sasuke's family had been crippled when he was fifteen instead of nine. AU sort of. Same ninja-verse. Different timeline, I guess. Also, Sasuke is too…distraught to really do anything correctly. Soooooo, he's a little OOC. Sorry. **

**Not my best work, but…have you SEEN the original work? Ugh. I wrote this, originally, seven years ago. There needed to be a fix. **

**Anyways, enjoy.**

**Frozen Blossoms.**

She stood in the rain at the funeral, her fingers wrapped tightly around the grip of her umbrella, staring with strained eyes at the raven-haired boy who'd lost the world in a quick flurry of chaos. She knew the gravity of it all, the pain, the loneliness, the hopelessness. She'd lost something dear to her once, too, and the fact nearly tore her apart in the deafening silence between them. The rain pattered on her umbrella like the stamping of a boar's hooves, heavy and loud, as she held it over the boy, the water dripping onto her shoulders. Chills shot down her spine.

There was a biting breeze, then, and swirl of even colder air filled her nostrils, tickling her nose until she sneezed. For a moment, her grasp on the umbrella faltered and it fell to the ground in a soaking heap, she and the boy now exposed fully to the wrath of the rain. It was far too cold for words and, as she sneezed and shivered some more, she couldn't shake the feeling of guilt and sadness lingering in her gut. Her best friend had lost everything and she hadn't a single word to say in the matter – and she had no right to. She wasn't there, by his side, when he needed her most. She wasn't there to help him fight off the demons lurking around every corner. She wasn't there to comfort him, to soothe the pain, when it all was at its heaviest. She wasn't. And no amount of comforting and helping and fighting would make up for it. Her hands balled into tight fists, clenching and unclenching periodically between bouts of sadness and anger at herself.

She couldn't believe how horrible a friend she'd been…

'I'm sorry,' she said softly, slowly, like the words were foreign or spoken too soon, 'Sasuke. I'm sorry.'

He had lost so much in hardly any time at all and she couldn't even apologize right. She bit her lip in frustration, trying her best to do right by him, and lifted her head, awaiting any reply he might have to offer. But he did not budge and he did not speak, his clothes clinging to him the way blood would after a fight. He made no effort to acknowledge her apology, nor did he turn to meet her solemn gaze. And that was okay. He owed her nothing, especially not now.

Because, well, he'd lost everything and those who lose just that are owed much more than simple words.

The rain still pelted them and her eyes searched for the umbrella, the water filling it to the brim. She wanted to reach for it, grab it, dump it out, and go back to shielding the raven-haired boy, but she didn't, as his voice uncomfortably met her ears.

'What are you sorry for, Momoki?' he whispered, his body frozen in place, her eyes snapping back to him. He'd turned in the few split-seconds she glanced away and the weight of what he'd lost was clear in his face. She covered her mouth with her frozen fingers.

He was as pale as a ghost, dark bags prominent under his black eyes, and desperation and pain were woven into the very fabric of his expression, everything in sight a reminder of what he'd lost.

'Sasuke, I-I'm sorry for everything. I should've been there for you,' she answered quietly, ashamed, another wet chill inching down her spine. She was so cold, but she dared not show it. It wasn't the time to put herself first. Her closest friend was miserable and sopping wet, a mess on two legs, and the grief in his eyes was far more important than the cold in her own.

He'd lost so much, so soon. She bit her lip and shook her head sadly.

And, as someone who'd shared the same experience, she should've been there, ready to save everyone – because he wasn't.

'I'm sorry, Sasuke.'

He was silent then and his eyes dropped, lips tight between his teeth, and, simply, he stood there. There wasn't much left to say, be it comforting or not, because an entire clan – some would argue the strongest in the village – fell in a single night, at the hands of a single shinobi, and there was no one to take the blame. His family, his _bloodline_, would go down without a fight and _there would be none left to carry on the line, no one to—_And then his heart started to hammer against his chest, his blood racing in his veins. He clenched his fists as tightly as he could manage, the memory flashing in his eyes.

_Itachi._

His brother.

He'd seen him atop a telephone pole, perched in a crouching position on his toes, and only his eye could be seen, for the rest of him was enshrouded. His eye was wide and red in the darkness, as if a spot of blood shining in the moonlight, and a cruel, hurtful expression was clear in it. A flat barrage of syllables left him, sending chills down Sasuke's spine and goose bumps across his flesh, the eerie voice leaving terror and an overwhelming sense of regret in its wake.

_"There is no value in killing the likes of you… my foolish brother…"_ And all he wanted to do was scream, plunge a kunai in his brother's chest, and cry, but he could not, frozen to the spot. His heart had broken each time his eyes fell upon a lifeless body and there his brother stood, the culprit, the murderer…but he could do nothing. The lives of his family members sucked away so suddenly – and this is what Itachi had to say? No apologies, no heartfelt bullshit? Not a single word of an explanation? A cryptic string of horrifying nonsense instead!

He knew his blood was boiling. He could feel the anger bubbling inside him, a knife digging into his heart. His brother's betrayal… He couldn't forgive it. He couldn't because here his family members lie dead in piles, nothing but empty vessels of memory and strength.

_"If you want to kill me… curse me! Hate me! And live a long and unsightly life… Run away… run away… and cling to your pitiful life. And then some day, when you have the same eyes as I do, come before me."_ Then Itachi was gone, nil but a shadow left in his place, and Sasuke fell to his knees, angry and sad tears dripping down his face. He couldn't believe it.

Not a single ounce of him wanted to.

But it happened. It was real, from the shining blood of his dying mother to the deafening screams only minutes ago. The air was cold and sticky, the moon was bright and insulting, as he sat in the dirt in tears, his night shirt clinging to his skin. There was no sound, no movement, no reversal of time, no genjutsu release. This was all _real_, and nothing would change that.

His family in pieces, his brother a murderer, his heart a thundering mass of pain. Everything he was proud of, everything he belonged to, everything he _cherished_, was gone – and it only took one person.

Sasuke bit his lip then, wondering how things would be if they had gone differently, and let himself relax, his fists unfurling and his lips uncurling. Momoki was staring at him, concern and worry clear in her eyes. She was right to, he wouldn't deny it. He must've looked like what she would call a 'sad soba noodle'. It was a nice thought among many painful ones. Though, he wished she'd been there because maybe, just maybe, she could've helped. Maybe only a few would have died instead of all. Maybe…maybe she could've distracted Itachi long enough for him to have awoken his parents and help them escape. But, then, _she _would be dead. His stomach lurched at the idea and his heart skipped a beat. She was his friend, his _only _friend – how truly alone would he be if she had been in harm's way, another casualty in his brother's war?

He frowned. He'd have his mother and father, but he wouldn't have her. And she was all he had now.

She was soaked to the bone and he could feel the rain on him, too, a fresh sensation of pattering he'd forgotten moments ago. It was quiet aside from that, as everyone had left hours ago, and he wanted to stay longer, to cry at his parents' graves and remember their smiling faces, but it was cold and it was wet – and if they didn't go home now and take a bath, they would both get sick. He didn't want to leave, but he had to.

So he did.


End file.
